And This Is Your Reward
by ykvt
Summary: What if Nikita had escaped Division the night Alex's parents were killed? What if Division had found Alex and taken her in?
1. A New Life, Part 1

_Chapter 1: A New Life (Part 1)_

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><p>Every part of Nikita burned. Her suit and gas mask protected her well enough, but she could still feel the flames pressing into her flesh, and the smoke inching into her lungs. Clearing another room, she returned to the hallway, and narrowly avoided a chunk of ceiling as it crashed into the ground.<p>

"Christ, Nikki. Mansion's going to be rubble in five minutes, tops. Where the hell are you?"

She pulled her comm unit closer to her gas mask so Birkhoff could hear her better.

"Gee, Nerd. There are over 50 rooms in this place. Maybe if you'd done your job better, I would've found the father already."

"That is so not my fault. Why do you always blame me whenever anything tech-side comes up short? I mean, sure, I'm a computer genius and no other shmuck here comes close …"

Nikita cut off Birkhoff's rant and continued to search the floor. She was fairly certain the super-geek didn't know the mission's full parameters. Percy preferred his pawns to work under the illusion they were acting for the greater good.

She almost wished he'd never told her about the girl. But Division's Director hadn't gotten to his position by being a chump. He knew she was different. Probably from her first mission, he'd known she could see through his lies, and the biggest lie of all that Division was a force of good. She remembered her fear when she'd first met Roan and learned how he dealt with agents who couldn't follow orders. It was the reason she'd worked her ass off in training, and become one of Division's best recruits.

Despite her exceptional first few years as an active, she'd always felt Percy watching. Waiting for her to turn. It had all come to a head earlier that week, when he'd called her to his office and outlined her role in Operation Pale Fire. She hadn't dared object. But from the moment she'd seen the girl's picture, she'd known it was over for her. She could no longer save herself from cancellation by completing her missions flawlessly. Now, she had to cross the line she'd sworn she never would.

It wasn't a contest for her. Now, she had to save Alexandra Udinov.

* * *

><p><em>17 hours earlier<em>

* * *

><p>"Michael, please. Don't let them do this."<p>

Her handler glanced up from his desk. He looked exhausted, and Nikita had no doubt he'd been losing sleep over the mission, too.

"Nikolai Udinov hasn't built Zetrov on feeding the homeless and hugging puppies. He's not a good man. Nor the greatest loss to the world."

"Tell yourself what you want," Nikita said. "There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that justifies the murder of an innocent child. She's 13 years old, for god's sake. How can you turn a blind eye to this?"

"Percy's gone over every scenario with Strategic Operations. There's no other way."

"This isn't the first operation you've known about where Division's killed a child, is it?"

Michael swallowed hard and averted his gaze. Feeling tears pricking her lower lids, Nikita felt her hatred of Division spread to the one part of her heart it had never touched before.

"If you let them do this, you might as well admit that Kasim Tariq had just as much right to murder Haley."

Anger flashed over Michael. Regret flooded Nikita, but it was too late. Rising to his feet, Michael pointed to the door.

"Get out."

"I'm sorry, Michael …"

"If there was even a chance I could stop this, I'd take it. I can't, and neither can you. Follow your orders, or you'll end up next on Roan's to-do list."

* * *

><p>Climbing over a flaming heap of plaster blocking the end of the hallway, Nikita placed a hand on another doorknob. Everything was getting hotter to the touch. She was about to breach and clear when she heard sobbing from the other side of the door. A man ordered his daughter in Russian to get underneath a bed.<p>

Nikita opened the door. Her eyes widened as she saw the Yarygin in Nikolai Udinov's hand. He wasn't supposed to have a gun. When had he had time to grab a gun? Her surprise jumped to the man as he caught sight of her. He swung the gun around, aiming for her chest.

Division had trained her too well. In a split second, she snapped her SIG-Sauer up and shot him twice in the heart.

"Papa!"

The cry cut through Nikita. Bracing herself, she lifted the bed sheets. A pair of huge blue eyes peered out at her, terror and horror intermingling into the most heartbreaking thing Nikita had ever seen.

"It's alright," she said, beckoning at the girl. "I won't hurt you. Come with me."

Alexandra didn't move, her eyes fixed on her father's corpse. Nikita realised she'd already gone into shock. She reached toward the girl to pull her out from under the bed before it collapsed. However, Alexandra let out a scream loud enough to bring the rest of the mansion down.

"No!" she shrieked, clawing at Nikita's arms. "You killed Papa! You killed Papa!"

After a brief struggle, Nikita managed to haul Alexandra out. She hadn't wanted to shoot her father. Her plan had counted on at least one of the parents surviving and getting her to safety. Now she had to contend with a hysterical child she didn't have a clue what to do with.

She tried to figure out the most tactically sound approach to getting blatant proof that one-third of Operation Pale Fire was incomplete past two-dozen Division agents. As she hatched a plan, she felt Alexandra sag in her arms. Noticing that she'd passed out, Nikita took her gas mask off and placed it over Alexandra's face.

"There you are. That the father?"

Nikita recognised Roan's cold voice and imposing figure through the thick smoke. She froze as he knelt beside her and checked Nikolai Udinov's pulse. He turned back around, and stopped dead.

"Why'd you give your mask to the daughter?"

Flicking her leg out, Nikita bashed Roan's left shin. He faltered, allowing Nikita the chance to grab his MP5. However, he kept his hold on the submachine gun and slammed it into Nikita's face. Blood spurted from her nose. She tore his gas mask from his head, attempting to off-balance him. Instead, his hands found her throat.

"I knew it," he said as she gasped for air.

She was about to die, yet Nikita felt the most peace she had in two years. She'd finally defied Division. She'd finally done the right thing. She'd saved an innocent, but if she died here, it would all be for nothing.

The last thought caused a surge of newfound strength to flow through her. With everything she had, she raised her numb arms and clapped Roan's temples. He fell back. Springing to her feet, she picked up his MP5 and struck him in the face. It took three more hits before he went down.

Slinging the MP5 over her shoulder, she lifted Alexandra in her arms. She stared around the burning bedroom, and for the briefest moment wondered whether it would be better for the both of them if they died here.

Then she ran.

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><p><em>Please review if you enjoyed!<em>

_Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective property owners. None of them are mine. Repeat for all other chapters and Fin._


	2. A New Life, Part 2

_Chapter 2: A New Life (Part 2)_

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><p>Michael groaned as his cell went off. It felt like he'd only managed to fall asleep a minute earlier. Flicking on his bedside lamp, he snatched up his cell. It was a private number.<p>

Sometimes he absolutely despised being a Division agent.

"What?"

"Michael?"

He sat upright in his bed. He'd never heard Nikita so afraid. Before she even explained why she was calling, he knew what she'd done.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call. They're tracking us through the woods. I don't know how much further I can make it."

"I told you to follow orders," Michael said, kneading his forehead. "I can't help you now."

"You can access the file on Operation Pale Fire, can't you? There has to be something in there about Nikolai Udinov's associates who are still friendly to him."

"I doubt after the coup tonight any of them will be willing to take you in."

"Look, I don't care if I make it out of this. But don't let it all be for nothing. There has to be someone who'll help the girl."

Michael tried to shut down his personal feelings. After a moment, he sighed.

"Give me a minute."

As he switched his computer on and logged in to Division's main database, Nikita thanked him from the other end of the line. He couldn't help but picture her, dead, in a shallow grave. He'd feared for a while now that she wouldn't last much longer as an agent. It didn't matter that even Percy admitted she was one of the best operatives Division had ever seen. Her heart wasn't in it, and nothing would change that.

"Here we go," he said. "Anton Chudov. He's on Zetrov's board of directors. Marked here as an Udinov family friend who'd never turn on them."

"So he wasn't part of Sergei Semak's group of dissenters?"

"No. I'm forwarding you his contact details."

Nikita said nothing as the data went through. Pain Michael hadn't felt since he'd laid eyes on a burning car wreck years earlier hit him.

"Okay, I got it."

"Nikita."

"Yeah?" she asked, hope fainter than a dying star in the sky edging her voice.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she said, voice softening. "You're the best man I've ever known. Take care of yourself."

* * *

><p>Michael gripped his chair's armrests. When Percy had called him into his office, he'd expected to hear that Nikita had been killed in action. Instead, Percy had played back their entire phone conversation.<p>

"This is exactly why I didn't include you in the operation. I knew you'd give Nikita an easy out."

"What's going to happen to her?"

"Excuse me?" Percy asked, flush with anger. "If you were anyone else, I'd let you go to your grave never knowing. But I'm going to give you a chance."

The buzzer to Percy's door went off. Glaring at Michael, he ordered the person inside. A bleary-eyed Birkhoff wandered in.

"I've hacked into that Russian hospital's security feed. No disrespect, sir, but my Labrador's chew toy could've gotten in there. I mean, I don't mind doing any more jobs like it, but if you want to save on some brainpower, I think another tech would be up to it."

Finally noticing Michael, Birkhoff's smirk withered. Michael grimaced at him.

"That'll be all for now," Percy said.

"Alright then." Birkhoff backed out of the room, flashing a thumbs-up sign with both hands. "Go team."

"We have a team on that hospital as we speak," Percy went on. "Nikita and Anton Chudov arranged to meet close-by so he could take the girl to be treated straight after. Smoke inhalation injury, apparently. Anyway, you'll reach their location by the time the meeting goes down. You'll take out Nikita."

"What about the girl?"

"Roan will handle that."

Michael's shoulders slumped. Percy's gaze hardened.

"Sometimes the innocent have to be sacrificed for the many, Michael. If Alexandra Udinov survives, control of Zetrov will be issued to her father's corrupt partners until she comes of age. If she doesn't, Sergei Semak can take control and change Zetrov for the better."

Nodding wearily, Michael said, "I won't let you down, sir."

* * *

><p>– <em>Pick up, Nikita.<em>

Michael shot a nervous glance at the agents spread throughout the temporary field base. He didn't have to worry that Roan or any of the other stone-cold killers would come over and strike up some friendly conversation, but he couldn't be sure if one of them was monitoring his phone.

At last, a reply came. Like Michael's frantic messages to Nikita, it appeared to be a string of gibberish. In reality, it could be deciphered with a code Nikita had developed as a recruit. Michael remembered it because it had taken Birkhoff a whole day to crack. It took Michael a minute now, and when he did, he rolled his eyes.

– _?_

He prayed he wasn't making any mistakes as he rushed out his reply.

– _Chudov meeting compromised. Abort._

– _Too late._

Michael nearly dropped his cell as Roan materialised beside him.

"Got all three of them," he said, handing Michael a tablet with a map of the area. "Chudov and the girl are heading to the hospital. We'll take care of them. Nikita's yours."

Roan signalled for his team to move out. Michael scrutinised the dot on the tablet screen marked as Nikita.

He barely intercepted her before she reached the hospital.

"Are you insane? Five Omega Unit agents are in there. They'll kill you on sight."

Nikita lowered her gun. As Michael stepped closer, he realised she was crying.

She never cried. Not when she'd returned from one of her earliest missions with injuries so bad even Amanda had seemed sorry for her. Not when she'd suffered the indignity of taking on the Josephine alias with two men on two missions at the same time. Never.

"I'd rather die than let them take her," she said, swiping her tears away. "Move."

"They answer to me. I can look after her. I promise you I will, but you need to run."

"No, I know Roan. He's Percy's dog and no-one else's. He won't stop until his mission's complete."

Michael took Nikita by the shoulders. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. Finally, she nodded.

"Okay," he said, taking a step back. "Percy ordered me to cancel you. So … make it look good."

It took Nikita a moment to figure out what he meant. Before he could prompt her, she drew her arm back and slugged him in the jaw.

"Come on, Nikita. You can do better than that."

She responded by pinning him to the ground with an arm bar and smashing his face into the dirt. He wobbled back onto his feet.

"Good enough."

To his surprise, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't let them win, Michael," she said into his ear. "Goodbye."

* * *

><p>Michael ran. His burning lungs only made him sprint faster to the team's waypoint. Entering a rundown building, he spotted Roan's salt-and-pepper hair and black-framed glasses.<p>

"What happened?"

"She got the drop on me," Michael said, clutching his chest. "Probably watching us the whole time."

He caught the flash of steel just in time. Not one second after Roan pressed the tip of the KA-BAR into his side, he had his Beretta lined up with the cleaner's gut.

"If she'd known we were here, she wouldn't have let the girl go. Are you sure someone didn't help her escape?"

Michael's grip on his gun grew slippery with sweat as Roan's knife drew blood. Before he could act, he noticed something over Roan's shoulder. Roan turned. Omega Unit was filing through the door, one of the agents leading Alexandra Udinov by the arm.

"Go ahead," Michael said. "Kill me right in front of them. Nobody's laying a finger on that girl, do you understand?"

"Percy –"

"I'll accept whatever punishment he has to give when we get back."

Eyes cold with disapproval, Roan sheathed the KA-BAR. Michael looked from the tarpaulin and container of hydrofluoric acid at their feet to the girl. He startled as he caught her bright doe eyes on him. She gave him the tiniest of smiles.

He melted.

* * *

><p>"She's so adorable. Like a pet. A pet that holds the fate of a multi-billion dollar corporation that controls half of Russia in her tiny little hands. What should I do with her? I know! Why not bring her back to the headquarters of the top-secret U.S. government agency that took out her family? What were you thinking?"<p>

Michael flinched as Percy shouted the last part. Amanda observed them from a corner of the room, one eyebrow arched in that insufferable way of hers.

"Look at her, sir."

"Oh, I'm looking at her," Percy said, throwing a hand toward the girl seated in the opposing room. "That's the problem."

"Tell me you could stand by right now and watch someone dispose of her."

"This doesn't come down to a chess game with my conscience. I answer to people, too."

"They never have to know. Nobody has to know. Nikolai Udinov took great pains to keep her out of the media. She's less than a ghost. To the world, she's a ghost without a face."

"And what do you propose we do with her? Take her out on missions as the Division mascot?"

"Use one of the foster agencies Division uses to find recruits. Put her in a good home."

"I'm not about to send her into the wild and leave it to chance that questions about her past won't come up somewhere down the line."

Michael could feel the straws he was grasping at slipping further away.

"Well, sir, I could always –"

"Adopt her?" Amanda asked. "You're overseas half the time, the rest you're here. Hardly a suitable guardian."

"Exactly," Percy said. His brow furrowed, before he added, "Wait, are you agreeing that we should let her live?"

"Yes. And I'd like to volunteer to be her caretaker."

Michael and Percy raised their eyebrows at each other. Michael would've believed her more if she'd announced she was eloping with Birkhoff.

"Keeping Alexandra close provides a long-term strategic advantage," Amanda said. "Percy, you've heard the rumours about Sergei Semak consorting with Gogol. If he decides one day to turn his back on us, we can bring him into line by threatening to return Zetrov to its rightful owner."

"What do you get out of this?" Percy asked.

"Nothing. Except a pay rise so I can upgrade my housekeeper to a nanny."

A sinister smile played on Amanda's lips. Michael's skin crawled at the thought of any child growing up in her home. But he wasn't about to take Percy's side on things.

At last, Percy said, "This could work."

After a further half hour of heated discussion, Michael entered the interrogation room where the girl was waiting. She didn't look up from the paper she was scribbling on. Sitting on the edge of the table, he saw she was drawing a woman's face. A pair of demonic eyes glared out from behind a gas mask. His heart sank.

"Hey, you finished the Sudoku puzzle already. I never manage those things."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Michael."

"Alexandra Nikolaevna."

"I know. That's why I'm here. Alexandra Nikolaevna Udinov has to die."

She fixed her devastating gaze on him.

"I don't understand."

"Do you know who we are? Why we brought you to the States?"

"You saved me from the people Papa was afraid would betray him. From that woman."

"That woman –" he took a deep breath, forcing himself to continue "– the people who attacked your home worked for your father's right-hand man."

"Mr. Sergei Romanovich?"

"He's going to be instated as the new head of Zetrov at the end of the week. If he gets word you're still alive, he'll use Zetrov's resources to find you. He won't stop until you're dead."

"I see," she said in a small voice.

"A woman named Amanda's going to come in here soon with a package. That package will contain the life of Alex Grayson, an orphan from Philadelphia who Amanda's going to take in."

"Why?"

"We're not going to cast you out to fend for yourself. We're going to protect you, but you have to be careful. You have to memorise every detail about Alex Grayson, and get rid of Alexandra Udinov. Lose your accent. Forget your old life. This."

Alex snatched her hand away as Michael touched a silver watch dangling from her wrist.

"Okay, we don't have to go that far."

Her expression was raw pain. He knew she still had a way to go before she reached the height of her suffering. He remembered how his own had almost ended with him overdosing on morphine.

"Listen," he said, kneeling down and squeezing her hand. "If you want to let it out, it's okay."

Panic settled over her.

"Papa said I had to be strong without him. Papa said I mustn't look weak. Papa …"

Shifting forward, Michael enveloped her in a tight hug. She let out an anguished noise and buried her head in his neck.

"It's okay," he said as her frail body heaved with sobs. "Nobody's ever going to hurt you again, Alex. I promise."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thank you for the kind reviews. Will Alex turn out good or bad? Wait and see!_


	3. A Guardian Angel

_Chapter 3: A Guardian Angel_

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><p>Alex hid her disappointment with a smile. She walked onto the stage, accepted the diploma, and walked back to her seat. Unremarkable, under the radar and, according to Amanda, something anyone could keep up for the rest of their life without going insane.<p>

After the ceremony let out, she joined her friends for lunch. They gossiped about a huge party taking place that night. She was glad she already had the excuse that her car was in repair, and that she was grounded for crashing it. She hated meeting new people. Hated the lies.

Lunch over, she turned down an offer to drive her home. As she headed to the bus stop, one of her friends let out a low whistle. The rest laughed. Turning around, she spotted the man who'd caught their attention. It was hard to miss his white Navy uniform.

"Guys, cut it out. That's my uncle."

She ran down the front school steps and hugged him. Her friends whooped. She scrunched her face up at them. When they were gone, she stepped back, rolling her eyes.

"Not that I'm not happy you're here, but really? I do anything out of the ordinary or attract any kind of attention, Gogol sends a squad after me. But you showing up in that's okay?"

"I was planning to change," Michael said, holding up a duffel bag. "I drove straight here, didn't want to miss your graduation. Sorry I did, by the way."

"Are you kidding? You didn't have to come."

"Yeah, I did."

Following Michael to his car, Alex couldn't help but slip her hand into the crook of his arm. It was an old habit. She'd barely left his side the first, and last, two weeks she'd spent at Division, as news had spread that the Udinov family was no more. Then Amanda had dragged her away, forcing her to leave Alexandra behind for good.

"Where'd you get back from?" she asked.

Michael swallowed as he started the car. "Funeral."

"Oh. Who?"

"I didn't come here to talk about that."

Alex felt her smile slide away into the vortex that was Michael's grimace. She kept her mouth shut, knowing what was coming.

"Principal Wood called me last week. Said you were in a fight."

"Oh, yeah." Alex laughed. "Tony Prowell made a crack at me in Home Ed. I called him a wanker. No big."

Michael blinked, and Alex knew she'd already lost the battle. She wondered how Principal Wah Wah had figured out Michael was the only one she couldn't fool.

"I heard you punched him in the face. And apparently, Principal Wood only heard about it through the grapevine, because Tony didn't report it, because he's had a crush on you since seventh grade."

Amusement laced the last part of Michael's accusation. Alex didn't know whether to feel ashamed or embarrassed.

"Damn it, Alex, look at me. I know you're never going to see Tony again after today. That you're going to lose touch with your friends after you go off to college. But you can't use that excuse every time someone gets to you. You're so trapped in the past and fixated on the future, you never pay attention to what you're doing right now."

"Yeah, right. Gogol's gonna read Tony's Facebook feed: 'Got my ass beat by a girl'. Automatic deduction: this mysterious girl must be Alexandra Udinov. Zombie Udinov. Zombinov! Udinombie?"

Michael sighed, eyes closed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He insulted my parents," Alex said, seeing Amanda's house in the distance and fearing her guardian was home.

"I'd hoped you'd changed by now. You're the same age I was when I joined the Navy. You're an adult, for God's sake. You can't keep holding onto all this anger."

"What am I supposed to do? Pretend it never happened?"

"It did never happen. You're Alex Grayson, that's the only thing you should remember!"

He may as well have sent a fist into her face. Just as Amanda had never said a sincere or caring thing to her in her life, Michael had never yelled at her.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked. "What's going on?"

He didn't reply as he drew into Amanda's driveway. They sat there for a full minute before he spoke.

"I have to go."

"What?"

"I'm going to be gone for awhile. I doubt Amanda's going to be in soon, either. Stay home until one of us gets back. This is the safest place you can be."

"Have they found out about me?" Alex whispered.

"You'd be halfway to Division by now. No. It's… complicated. Look, come here."

Michael pulled her into a hug. She squeezed hard. When they broke apart, he was wearing The Look. The plaintive stare he gave her as though she wasn't there at all, and in her place was another little girl, from another life.

"Please, Alex," he said, "just this once, do what you're told."

She nodded. "Promise."

* * *

><p>Flicking through channel after channel, Alex asked the ceiling why she hadn't been doubly grounded on a Friday. At least then there would've been something decent to watch.<p>

She shut the television off and slouched into the kitchen. It was spotless, as always. Charise, Amanda's housekeeper and Alex's former nanny, was a godsend, and the reason Alex had never had to put up with Amanda too often growing up in her house.

Sure, she appreciated that Amanda had taken her in and protected her for so long. She even admired that her guardian hadn't given two hoots she was a multi-billion dollar heiress when they'd met, and had stamped out her bratty behaviour in record time.

But Amanda didn't love her. And there was something about the way Michael talked about her that made Alex fear her, and shudder at the thought of what exactly it was she did at Division.

Alex inspected a carton of Neapolitan ice cream. All of the strawberry and chocolate ice cream was gone, leaving plain old vanilla sitting lonely in the middle of the box. Alex muttered Amanda's name, and turned to fetch a spoon.

She ran smack into the gloved hands of a giant.

It was amazing she hadn't heard him creep up behind her. He was a good foot taller than her, and a great deal heavier. A scar that resembled a backwards Z criss-crossed his face, ending at the corners of a mouth bared in a horrifying grin.

_Call for help, you IDIOT_.

The scream had barely left her throat when Zigzag clamped a hand over her mouth. He barked something in Slovak – or was it Czech? – and two masked men descended the stairs. They dragged her into the living room, taped her mouth shut, and restrained her to a chair.

Two things were clear. One, Zigzag didn't care if she saw his face. Two, he and his team had made it through the house's exhaustive security measures in less than a few hours, making them either psychic gods, or well-paid cleaners.

Another inside job. But this time, nobody was saving her.

Zigzag pulled out a machine gun longer than Alex's arm. His two lackeys turned and nodded at a fourth agent who strolled into the house sporting an oversized beanie. Zigzag relaxed his trigger finger as Beanie shut the sliding door leading into the backyard.

Alex remembered when she'd first arrived at Amanda's house. Michael had taken her out back, and they'd spent the entire afternoon revelling in the spectacular view.

They'd eaten pizza rolls for lunch that day. He'd taught her hopscotch. She'd thrown his hat into the ocean as a joke.

_Michael. Oh, God. I'm sorry._

Tears spilled from her eyes. Zigzag and his lackeys ignored her as they set up the room, strategically smashing various ornaments and splashing what had to be real blood across the floor.

It was only the last agent to arrive that paid her any attention. Alex tried to wipe her face across her shoulder. Failing to erase the evidence of her weakness, she settled for a glare.

She wasn't going to go down sobbing and pleading. It had only been a matter of time, after all.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Alex screamed through her gag. Zigzag turned and lurched in her direction. Beanie plugged another bullet in his chest, and finished with a bullet to his head. Darting over to where the two lackeys lay, Beanie imparted the same gift to their skulls.

It was the second time in Alex's life she'd witnessed murder. And yet, only one thought ran through her head.

_Michael does this for a living?_

Beanie rolled Zigzag over and took something from his jacket. She glanced at Alex, who'd already forgotten her vow not to show any fear.

"Sorry you had to see that."

Alex let out a dry sob, any doubt she'd had since laying eyes on the woman put to rest. It was The Voice. The sadistic purr that had haunted her dreams for five years. She didn't need to see the face behind the mask, or the shock of black hair hidden underneath the beanie, to know whom she was dealing with.

Pushing her toes against the ground, she tipped the chair she was trapped in over. She ignored the pain of her head hitting the marble floor, and yanked her wrists against the weak knot securing her in place. She freed herself in the flash that was all it had taken for her assailant to kill her father, and dove for Zigzag's gun.

But Nikita was already gone.


	4. The Oldest Lie

_Chapter 4: The Oldest Lie_

* * *

><p>It was 90 degrees out, and Nikita was shivering. She lowered her binoculars and stretched. The cramped position she'd been in for over two hours hadn't caused her discomfort. It had been the thought of those eyes. Big and blue and so full of hatred she'd almost forgotten to run.<p>

Sure, Nikita had made enemies over the years. They'd never looked at her with as much pure spite as that girl had in those few seconds. Okay, Amanda had given her more than a good helping of evil eye over the years, but then they'd known each other for years. She didn't know this girl. How could this kid take one glance at her and, without even seeing her face, despise her?

Movement at the front of the row house caught her eye. All thought of the previous night, bar the Division signal jammer she'd stolen, went out the door. She peered through her binoculars. Her target was on the move. His love of late-night toasted pretzels dipped in extra butter hadn't changed. She smirked.

Her target shuffled to his car. She slid out of her vantage point and crossed the road, careful to stay in his blind spots. She waited until he'd entered his car and started muttering to himself before strolling up to his window.

"So Percy still lets you out of the cage? I'm insulted."

He looked up from where he'd been banging on the dashboard, eyes glazed over in shock. She smiled.

"Hey, nerd."

Before she could wisecrack about how she'd disabled his car, he whipped a gun in her direction. She rolled her eyes as he lowered the window.

"Them's the breaks for the guy keeping everyone from digging up the dirty on Division. You're doing your best to bring the whole world down on us, aren't you, Niki? What am I, the fifth Division asset you've gone after in a month?"

"You're not going to shoot me. Shut up and get out."

"I wouldn't," Birkhoff said. "I've had a protection detail ever since you started your crusade, or whatever the hell you think this is. They'll be here any second."

She shoved his gun backward into his face. As he yelped in pain, she wrenched him out onto the sidewalk.

"My nose," he blubbered pitifully.

Ignoring his groans, she marched him to her car and into the backseat. He started to yell for help, realising the cavalry wasn't coming. She jammed a syringe into his neck.

"If Percy really gave a damn about you," she murmured, watching Birkhoff black out, "he would've given you a better protection detail."

* * *

><p>Nikita kneaded her temple, trying to concentrate on the blueprints spread out in front of her. It was useless. The clanging was getting louder, echoing all throughout the warehouse. She huffed in frustration and strode into the next room.<p>

Seated in the middle of the room was Birkhoff. He was twisting his head from side to side, trying to dislodge the blacked-out goggles and noise-cancelling headphones she'd fitted on him. The cuffs around his wrists and ankles rattled loudly as he banged against the metal chair. She checked her watch. Sighing, she ripped the goggles and headphones off.

"It's only been thirty-five minutes since I removed your tracker," she said. "The painkillers haven't worn off yet, so whatever sob act you're trying here, don't."

"What do you want?" Birkhoff asked.

She knelt, glaring into his bloodshot eyes. He shook his head.

"Hell no. Bring on the torture. Bring on the heavy metal, bring on the water, bring on the knives. Hell, bring on the bullet to my face. I'll die before turning traitor."

A pang caught Nikita's chest. Birkhoff looked confused, and she turned before he could register her expression. She left the room.

"I'm not done until I have the location of a black box," she called over her shoulder. "And we have all day."

"What are you gonna do? Put all our secrets out there? You're good, Niki, but there's no way you'll ever bring down Division."

"What I do is my business."

She sauntered back into the interrogation room and sat cross-legged on a table opposite Birkhoff. He blinked nervously as she dug inside a paper bag. With a huge smile, she pulled out her weapon of choice. His mouth dropped.

"Mmmm," she said, taking a big bite. Licking her lips, she added, "Fluffy."

"Is that a pretzel from Metzger?" he asked, squinting rapturously at the paper bag.

"Delivered fresh from the stand. I still remember how you visited them–what was it, four times in the one night we were supposed to be surveilling that diplomat?"

"It was five times, actually." His head drooped as she devoured the rest of the pretzel in one go. "My god, Mikey was right, you've gone over to the dark side."

"Really?" she said, jumping up from the table. "What else has Michael been saying about me?"

Birkhoff shrank back in his chair a little. Nikita could feel the blood rushing past her ears, the red haze that slammed down whenever she thought of Michael taking over.

"You hate us so much now you even hate Mikey, huh?"

"I'm not going to kill you, Birkhoff. I'm not going to torture you. That'd play a little too well into the lies Division's been feeding you about me, don't you think?"

Groaning, Birkhoff raised his head to the ceiling and yelled, "Then what the hell are we doing here?"

"Tori Shaw," Nikita whispered.

The colour drained from Birkhoff's face.

"You're a monster," he said, voice flat.

"Why's that?"

"You killed her. Killed a little girl right in front of her family, and then–you slaughtered them."

A low, sinister laugh that would've made Amanda proud fell from Nikita's lips.

"You actually swallowed that crap? Oh, Seymour."

"It wouldn't have been your first time."

"I didn't target that family. I loved that family. I was with the Shaws for two years before Division found me."

"What are you talking about?"

She turned to him. He was trembling, his raw nerves open for the taking.

"Let me guess," she said. "They said Damien and Elizabeth Shaw were big Division players, who had to be protected at all costs. They said I was going after the top brass. They ordered you to put a satellite over the Shaw's house, for when I turned up. And you–you stupid, ignorant, inconsiderate, pathetic sheep, you made sure that satellite was so invisible I couldn't pick it up–and you let them blow that car sky-high with Tori inside and her parents right down the driveway."

Tears dripped from Nikita's chin onto the concrete floor. She didn't care.

"The Shaws had nothing to do with Division. They were killed to punish me. Percy, or Amanda, or both of them, or all of them. Doesn't matter, they're all the same now."

"Christ, Niki," Birkhoff said, sitting up straighter. "You murdered Bill Gregorak. They caught you on tape and everything."

"He deserved it."

"He was Michael's buddy since college. They served together. They were brothers."

"You think I care about Michael?" Nikita shouted. "He could've stopped the mission and he didn't. Bill was even worse. He planted the explosives. I tracked him down and I made damn sure it was all on tape. I wanted everyone behind what happened to know what's in store for them."

"Are you going to kill me?" Birkhoff asked, all traces of fear gone.

"I already told you, no. I want you to see."

She grasped his hands in hers, bringing herself eye-level with him.

"I know you always had doubts. Let's be real, you didn't cover for me all those times because I treated you like gold."

He chuckled, but the toll their conversation was having was clear.

"The file on the Shaw mission's probably sealed," Nikita said, "but you can reach anything. Open it. Read it all. That's all I'm asking."

She wiped her face. Birkhoff said nothing, staring blankly. She nodded and turned to leave.

"They said you killed Alexandra Udinov."

It was as though an icicle had torn clean through her chest. She rounded on Birkhoff. He was wearing the most guilt-ridden look she'd ever seen.

"Percy's words. Gogol paid you off, so goes the official story, and you shot Nikolai Udinov's kid right after you offed him. But that was a lie too, wasn't it?"

She smiled sadly.

"You're the smartest idiot I know, nerd."

Nikita put a hundred miles between her and the warehouse before she pulled over. She flicked Birkhoff's tracker back on. It was times like this she wished she had someone on the inside, just so she could see the chaos inside base right now.

Birkhoff's words raced through her head. Alexandra Udinov. Dead? No. Michael would never have allowed it. But would he have lied to her about finding a foster family for the girl in Australia?

She hadn't dared look up Alexandra's alias before. There was no avoiding it now. She was neck-deep in her search when it hit her.

Those eyes.

More images flashed before her. The half-empty ice-cream carton strewn over Amanda's kitchen floor. The yellow smiley faces on the PJs the girl had been wearing. She'd written her off as an unlucky relative or family friend paying a visit but, looking back, she'd gone into denial the moment she'd clapped eyes on the spitting image of Katya Udinov.

_He left her with Amanda. AMANDA._

She sank back against her headrest, her horrified sobs the only noise on the lonely stretch of road.


End file.
